


Conscience

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Adult Content, Fluff and Smut, Gen, M/M, sequel to other author fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for the TF Gift Exchange 2013, and is a sequel to the amazing fic Finders Keepers: http://archiveofourown.org/works/280976/chapters/446669. Thanks to Anonfeather for inviting in her request the writing of more stories surrounding this pair, and for allowing the borrowing from the AU.</p><p>This is one possible series of events following FK. I was very happy and honoured to write this, and had much fun :) (And I highly recommend Finders Keepers).</p><p>*Warnings:* Mild smut (non sticky) and references to sexual liaisons and the events in Finders Keepers. Whilst there is no actual sex or violence in this fic, people not familiar with Finders Keepers should read the warnings (NC-17) attached to it if they wish to read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conscience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonfeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonfeather/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Finders, Keepers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/280976) by [Anonfeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonfeather/pseuds/Anonfeather). 



Soundwave stopped the video recording that Lazerbeak had made. It was of the Autobot attack on the new Combaticon base the day before. The 'secret' facility was now a charred wreck; except it had not been so secret - evidently - or the attack would never have happened. Somebody had been careless - or treacherous.

Megatron was glaring at the two Constructicons. "So you know nothing about this either?"

"Sir, we do not." It was true. The mindscan Soundwave was performing even now would not register adversely. There was no reason for the two Constructicon leaders not to look every bit as calm and poised as they did.

Starscream shifted in annoyance. The Constructicons had been treacherous before over that power tower thing, and the Seeker was sure there had to be something he could pin on them now.

"There is still the matter of your attendance at an unknown Autobot skirmish three days ago and your failure to record the details," he said smugly. "You should be aware that with such a breach of protocol, I would be within my rights to …"

"That will do, Starscream!" Megatron glowered at the Seeker, who fell silent, but threw a triumphant look at the Constructicons. "Megatron turned to Scrapper again.

"Indeed - what was that all about, Scrapper?"

"Simple, Megatron." Scrapper seemed unperturbed. "Scavenger went to retrieve some lost equipment from near one of our former camps. He was ambushed by Autobots. He raised the alert and held them off until we arrived, at which point they retreated. No further assistance was required."

"Indeed," Hook added, "we did not see fit to bother you, Lord Megatron, with unnecessary trivia."

How lucky that Laserbeak had not seen the debacle; had not recorded Scavenger's lamentations at the removal of the minibot Gears; his just 'standing there,' failing to attack – or do anything – when the Autobots hadn't even handcuffed him. Scrapper had shuddered at the thought of explaining that.

He'd made sure they had group interfaced later, knowing that the use of the session to augment battle sequence fortification would cause any recollection of Gears' rescue – along with Scavenger's 'relationship' - to form an indecipherable background blur should they be probed by Soundwave. Luckily, that hadn't happened.

Onslaught said something to Starscream, who nodded. "Just to let you know, Lord Megatron, that Onslaught is most concerned that he now lacks a base. It is my opinion that a more thorough investigation will need to be carried out with respect to recent events…."

" _If_ I order one. Which will be my decision!" The Decepticon leader's optics flashed, dangerously. "You forget that the Constructicons have proved themselves more loyal than …" he glowered at the Seeker, _"some others."_ On the contrary, it is just as likely that the divulged information came from somebody _far closer_ to me, Starscream."

The Seeker bristled as Megatron turned to Onslaught. "A new Combaticon base will be built," he said. That seemed to satisfy the Combaticon leader, who nodded. Megatron turned back to Scrapper. "I am entrusting the Constructicons with this task, and for now only they will know of its location. Do you understand?"

"Lord Megatron," Starscream wailed. "You can't be serious!" Megatron ignored him, thinking this best, and also that he wouldn't mention the truce Optimus Prime had earlier proposed. There had been enough histrionics today.

"Of course, Lord Megatron. You are guaranteed of our utmost cooperation." Scrapper and Hook bowed their heads respectfully.

"Very well. Dismissed!"

"That wasn't so bad," Scrapper said when they were outside. "Not that we had any reason for it not to be. All Decepticons have been questioned over this."

"Hmmm…" Hook did not look so happy. "It troubles me that the attack happened just after Scavenger's Autobot returned," he said, ignoring the fact that Scrapper winced a little at the reference. "I am sure Scavenger would not have divulged such information, but …"

Raised voices sounded from back inside the room, and Scrapper heard the words 'datapad inventory.' "Indeed, we need to watch Scavenger," he said. "He is still behaving oddly. He thinks I don't know it, but he crept out for a while the other night. We must keep an optic on him."

...........

Jazz placed the box on the small table. The assembled Autobot special operatives looked at it with interest. Small items peeked out, wrapped in brightly colored paper; hardly the usual kind of delivery to be intercepted by Autobot security.

"Prowl?" Optimus Prime looked questioningly at the second in command.

"Sir." Prowl stiffened. "There is a message attached to the contents which indicates that this is a gift from the Decepticon Scavenger to the Autobot Gears. I have had Teletraan One evaluate the contents. There is nothing that should cause alarm, in fact the items would appear to be – _extraordinarily useless…_ "

The Prime went to speak, but Prowl was not finished. "I don't like it though," he went on. "The situation is most odd. It is my opinion that Gears should be subjected to further questioning. We don't know whether these objects encode some information exchange taking place between him and the Constructicon…."

"So far as I can ascertain, we ain't got nothin' to worry about, "Jazz cut in. "Gears ain't well enough to leave the base yet, so there's been no physical contact. If there was anything else going on, don't you think Gears would've warned the Constructicon about the base attack? It was hardly a secret mission."

The others nodded, exchanging glances. "As for this …" Jazz gestured to the box, "it seems to be a one sided obsession. Gears doesn't wanna know about Scavenger - my guess is that he won't even look at this, and that the Constructicon'll lose interest in a while."

Optimus Prime nodded. "Indeed," he said. "I think we can leave the rest of Gears' recovery in Ratchet's capable hands." He didn't mention the medic's finding - that there had been some 'spark entanglement' on Gears' part. That was strictly confidential. Even from Jazz.

But for that reason, the matter still troubled him, for even the most fragile of sparkbonds formed could leave a lingering aftermath. He wasn't sure that Gears was so indifferent, or that things would peter out as soon as Jazz imagined.

And it still bothered the leader, how the Autobots had gotten the know-how to attack the new base, the datapad with the Decepticon operational blueprints that Scavenger had given Gears, that only he, Jazz and Mirage knew about. The implications if Megatron found out were not good – for Scavenger or Gears.

Nor did they augur well for the truce he'd proposed, a result of the human casualties incurred in the base attack; something that had angered the human President and led Optimus Prime to promise he would try and establish peace – at least for a while – instead of using Earth as a staging ground for Cybertronian conflict.

He turned to his second in command. "Prowl, Ratchet is of the view that some counseling for Gears from First Aid would be in order. I agree. Organize it, please. You are dismissed." That side of things could be dealt with, at least.

"Yes, Sir." Prowl hid his dissatisfaction well. As far as he was concerned, firm questioning would be far more likely to yield results than counseling. But the Prime's orders were orders. "I'll attend to the matter, Sir," he assured the leader, and departed.

That left only Jazz and Mirage. Optimus Prime turned now to the Autobot spy, who hitherto had been his customary silent self. "Tell me – how are things in the Decepticon camp, Mirage?" he asked.

And as if to confirm his worst fears, Mirage looked grave. "Megatron insinuated that Starscream was responsible for leaking information," he said in his cultured voice. "Starscream took it upon himself to conduct an audit of operational datapads - and found Scavenger's missing."

"It is most coincidental with the base attack of course," Mirage went on. "But they intend to charge the Constructicon with negligence - not treachery. It is as well that the Constructicons have succeeded in keeping the matter of Scavenger's relationship with Gears to themselves."

Optimus Prime shook his head sadly. "It saddens my spark what they might do to the Constructicon, one who is in my view less deserving of Megatron's wrath. More importantly, however, Gears' welfare is paramount."

He turned to Mirage and Jazz. "I would like you to keep monitoring the Decepticon end, Mirage. And Jazz, I would be obliged if you would keep talking to Gears. I'm interested to know his reaction to this …" he indicated to the box. "And I want you to see if he is likely to act rashly if things get ugly."

...........

Aware that almost everyone else was once again out of the Ark, Gears huddled on the settee in the Autobot rec room.

On the TV played a human show called of 'Days of Our Lives.' Olivia, a frail looking female, was weeping because her lover, John, had decided to go back to his wife.

Gears shifted on the settee, his spark a little uncomfortable. It was tragic, really. Olivia was devastated – and this John seemed an uncaring type. The bastard had just walked out without an explanation. He should at least have made a phonecall. And the wife should never have taken him back. She should have kicked him straight out.

If only Olivia could just get on with her life instead of moping over the idiot. John had never been very good to her. The trouble was, her own husband was an uncaring type too. Now what she ought to do was leave him and find somebody more worthwhile, more understanding….

"Darn it!" Gears took his optics off the screen, cursing at their mistiness. Why did he keep getting so absorbed in this stuff? Who cared whether some human couldn't get over a bit on the side?"

Annoyed, he switched off the TV. Maneuvering to lay on his back, he stared at the ceiling, noting for the umpteenth time that it could do with a thorough paint job.

He knew what the problem was, of course. _Lack of action._ The longer he lay here in this ridiculous state, the more he cursed at not being able to at least kick a little piece of Decepticon aft; the more he had to listen to the chatter every day about energon raids and secret bases getting blown up, the worse it became.

If only they would see that, and just let him out for just one fight …

But Ratchet had said no; said his injuries were too severe, that he needed to convalesce fully – physically and mentally.

A nonsense, of course. Sure, his internal regions were still healing, along with his coordination and relay centers. He walked with a slight limp now, after the crush injuries to his legs. But there was nothing else wrong. Nothing it at all. He was fine, mentally. And he should be out there - now.

The minibot scowled at the ceiling. _They don't trust me,_ he thought. _After I gave them that datapad. And I'll bet they used that to find out about the Combaticon base._ The datapad had contained a wealth of information about forthcoming projects for the Constructicons, as well as the schematics and plans for the Nemesis.

As usual, Gears' chest, gave an annoying ache at the thought of the datapad – or, rather, of who had given him the datapad. He thought almost _fondly_ of the clumsy Constructicon and his skewed reality, of how Scavenger had truly believed they had a 'thing', and had given him the datapad because he genuinely thought that would stop Gears from 'missing' him…

 _Darn it!_ Gears sat up. This had been another result of his boredom, this ridiculous notion that the Constructicon had come, in some inexplicable way, to mean something; that he actually _missed_ him.

If he could just get 'out there' again, his troubles would be over. Gears should - would - forget about the whole episode. These feelings - they absolutely, completely and definitely, had nothing to do with what had happened that time when Scavenger chose _being_ with him over fighting the Autobots, the time when they had….

But Gears did not have time to reel in the revulsion he always felt at the memory of what the Constructicon had done, or - worse - of the strange tenderness that had accompanied this. For Jazz came through the door, carrying a box.

 _Oh great …_ The minibot darkened. Jazz had made a habit of 'turning up' lately. Whilst the chats were friendly enough, they were filled with subtle probing; as though what had really happened was always on Jazz's mind, always on the tip of his glossa to ask. Gears was definitely not in the mood.

And as before, he had nothing to say. Hadn't that sunk in? Even Ratchet didn't know any details.

"Hey!" Jazz said, setting the box down. "How's it going?"

Gears scowled. He tried to ignore the sense of relief, that despite his misgivings, something in him liked having Jazz turn up, simply because it was better than being alone. "It's going just fine," he growled. He looked at the box. "So what's this. Christmas?"

"Little delivery," Jazz smiled. Gears felt that he watched him, curiously.

And now, Gears had a bad feeling about this. The box didn't look like anything he'd seen in Autobot storage. And those ridiculous looking packages? They were just too much like something that…

"It's all right," Jazz said. "There's no bombs in there."

"What is in it?" Gears peered forward. Why did he have such a strange compulsion to know that?

"Why don't you open it and find out?"

Why, this time, did his spark not just ache mildly but give an uncomfortable _twang?_

Gears caught a faint smirk on Jazz's face. "This ain't a game!" he snapped, glaring at the Autobot saboteur. At the same time, he made a decision. "Take it away! I suggest you chuck it straight where it belongs – in the incinerator!"

He glared at Jazz. "And with all due respect Sir, I'd prefer not to talk again, unless you got some good news for me. Like _hey Gears, you're needed for active duty in three breems_ type news. All right?"

...........

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Long Haul growled at Scavenger as another load of rubble, part of the makings of the replacement Combaticon base, descended. Even its scraping and crashing sounded 'cheerful.'

"I'm just – happy!"

"Well be more gentle about it. You're running my tray lining."

Oh Long Haul was such a misery. Even if he hadn't been forbidden to talk by Scrapper and Hook, Scavenger would never have told him the reason. Who could imagine Long haul even beginning to understand? No, few things were ever clear in the universe, but that Long Haul had never been in love definitely was.

 _Wasn't even capable of it,_ Scavenger thought smugly. For how much was the truck missing out on? What more joy could there be than thinking of a loved one's face as they opened up a package secretly delivered in the middle of the night by his beloved?

Scavenger thought fondly of the carefully assembled items. The feather painting was his own creation - he'd spent ages on it. Then there were the painted rocks and shells, the stuffed toys, the models and mobiles - made from little electrical components and an antenna – like the one Gears had been so fond of 'fiddling' with.

All things his treasure had loved and appreciated. Especially, Gears had liked that tower made of rubber bands - so Scavenger had made another. It wasn't the squishy tower that his treasure had spoken of so fondly, but it looked vaguely like something in Iacon. Gears would be rapt.

 _Squeeing_ inwardly at the happy expression that would be on his lover's face when he saw the tower, Scavenger dug into the earth again. But there was the rumbling of another vehicle arriving then, and Scavenger winced as his rear end was nudged hard.

"You gotta stop what you're doin' and come with me," Bonecrusher growled. "Scrapper wants to see you."

Bonecrusher didn't sound happy. But that did not matter. He probably wasn't. He often was pissed when Scrapper ordered him around. Scavenger would soon cheer him up. Why – he even felt quite benevolent towards Bonecrusher today.

"And just how am I supposed to shift all this stuff on my own…" Long Haul was grumbling.

"Oh don't worry!" Scavenger patted Long Haul's cab affectionately with his shovel. "I'll soon be back to help again."

No – _nothing_ could dampen the excavator's spirits now; for had not Scrapper and Hook promised Scavenger that he could see his love again, if he was good?

And he had been very, very efficient, lately. He'd already excavated most of the foundations for the new base, and been ever so cooperative. He'd done his very best for the Decepticons, as promised. Clearly, this meeting was to reward him.

Grinding his treads into the dirt, Scavenger rolled happily after Bonecrusher.

...........

Jazz hadn't taken the box. The aft had left it sitting on the table. Gears had had no option but to look at it; and then - although he still could not quite believe it - he'd opened it. Darn it, he really had opened it….

The first 'present' had been a shell, carefully cleaned and with a blue patch painted on one side in the shape of one of those human-style 'hearts.' The next was similar – only pink, the heart made of glued on fur. Similar objects had followed.

Gears' worst fears had been confirmed. As more of the painstakingly assembled contents were revealed, he groaned loudly – and loudest of all when he drew out the last object, the evident _piece de resistance:_ a rubber band tower.

Gears had not, however, rushed off to destroy the rubbish once and for all. And why? Because – and Primus preserve him that he would never have to tell anyone else this - he _liked_ the stuff.

Well - he didn't like all of it. The wires and components models reminded him far too much of his prisons, of the hovels Scavenger had kept him in whilst he struggled to build the radio, to find the means for escape. But the feather picture? It was actually quite beautiful.

Gears grimaced, furious that he even contemplated applying that word. Or that he was forced to admit, against his most vehement inclinations, that the tower was a Primus darned masterpiece.

 _To the most wonderful minibot in the universe,_ the accompanying note said, in very poor handwriting. _I miss you, but I live for when we will be together again._ Then there was another one of the heart things drawn with _Can't Wait – love you!_ written in the middle.

Gears' spark gave another infuriatingly warm _twang._ It decided the minibot. Yes - he'd incinerate the stuff himself. _Right now…_

Except - he couldn't. Somehow, his body refused to move. And it wasn't just because of some curious affection brought about by the gifts.

No. It was the one other thing Jazz had said before he left: "By the way, thought y'ought to know, just in case there's repercussions – Decepticons know Scavenger's datapad's missing."

"That's hardly my problem!" Gears had snapped at Jazz, who was leaving anyway. But now, the implications sunk in.

They knew. What if they blamed Scavenger for giving away information? The Constructicon was just too darned silly to cover his own tracks. He'd be bound to open his mouth and drop himself right in it …

Gears thought of what had been done to Scavenger by Scrapper and Megatron, just for being absent from battle, of the beating and bits ripped off him he'd received. _And it will be my fault when they terminate his spark. If_ anything _happens to him, it will be my fault…_

Gears' optics fell upon the objects again. All for him. Made and put together _lovingly._ Gears could even picture the expression on the Constructicon's face as he carefully placed the objects - the expression of his devotion - in the box.

"Damn it, I don't care if something does happen to him, in fact I'll be GLAD!" Gears shouted out loud. "I won't have to put up with THIS scrap any more. I can just FORGET him."

It seemed that ranting and raving was the only thing Gears' stupid spark would listen to. Well this scrap on the floor was going before there were any more close calls – or he had any more stupid thoughts.

But why did his spark erupt now in distressed pulses at his latest attempt to consider this? And why was he already thinking of how - if worst came to worst - he might get the Constructicon off the hook?

...........

Scrapper and Hook did look rather grimmer than Scavenger would have liked. But it mattered not. Nothing could have dampened the excavator's spirits, the sure news they were about to give him that he could visit his minibot.

Of course they looked displeased. They _weren't_ pleased – and that was because of the Combaticon base. Scrapper has spent ages on the plans for that. But it didn't matter – the Combaticons would get a new one soon. The only thing that mattered was that Scavenger would get his wish.

When Scrapper delivered the news, Scavenger would hug him – whether he liked it or not.

"So – what's happening?" he giggled, unable to suppress his delight.

Scrapper darkened. "This is not a laughing matter, Scavenger," he snapped. He turned to the Constructicon crane. "Hook – would you care to outline the situation?"

"Certainly..." Hook frowned. And then, the radiant joy in Scavenger's circuits evaporated to be replaced by an icy chill, as Hook talked about the missing datapad.

"…and it just happens to be yours, Scavenger," he concluded. "Questions are being asked. Starscream is saying you were negligent in losing it."

By that time Scavenger was frozen inside. He'd been so busy thinking of his minibot, making his presents and then dreaming of him at night as he rubbed his spark in the darkness that he'd forgotten all about the datapad he's given to his love.

And when the Combaticon base was blown up, he'd actually _laughed_ about the opulent quarters Swindle had somehow wheedled into the plans being blown to smithereens. He hadn't even considered what part that datapad might have played in the scheme of things.

If they found out he'd given it to his treasure …

Scavenger felt ill at what that might mean. Worse still, Scrapper would definitely change his mind. Hook would agree. He always did. Scavenger would never see his beloved minibot again…

But wait – they hadn't accused him of giving him stuff. Had they?

"I did just – lose it, that's all!" Scavenger stammered. "Yeah – that's it. I lost it. I was – " what was that word? "Negligent, that's it. Like you said."

Scrapper looked grave. " _Just losing_ something like that is still a grievous offence – especially when there are consequences," he said. "And the conclusion that this was connected to the base attack seems unavoidable. We managed to persuade Soundwave not to arrest you for further questioning, but Megatron wishes to conduct a hearing …"

Scavenger's legs turned to jelly.

"The fact that this also coincides with a certain missing Autobot returning to his kind may have escaped Megatron's notice, but it hasn't mine," Scrapper went on. "I know Starscream is suspicious, and he is after a scapegoat."

Hook frowned. "We want the truth, Scavenger, so there are no nasty surprises. _What_ happened to your work pad?"

Scavenger opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Autobots hated lies. If he did lie about this, then Gears might never even _want_ to talk to him again. But maybe there was another way. "I don't remember," he said. "But what I could say is that I gave it to G… I mean, my prisoner, 'cos it would keep him quiet."

There was a horrified silence. Hook and Scrapper looked at each other. "So - you did give it to him?" Scrapper looked as though he hardly dared ask.

Their combined glare was upon him. Scavenger was suddenly indignant. The way they always 'ganged up' like this. In actual fact, this probably _wasn't_ as complicated as they were making it. The stupid base blowing up probably had nothing to do with the pad at all! He betted they'd just changed their minds about Gears already and wanted an excuse, and didn't have the courage to say so without one.

The excavator jutted his chin out. "Actually, yes!" he declared. "I gave it to him. He was frightened and he missed me when I wasn't there. You're always telling me I lie too much – so there's the truth!"

"I don't care!" he went on, actually rather pleased by their mortified expressions – a sure sign that he'd sussed them out. "I'm not going to say that to Megatron of course, though I've half a mind to, especially if I'm going to punished anyway just for losing it. That way you'll see I love him and you're not going to stop that, no matter what you …"

Scavenger's voice turned to a squeak as Hook's hand clamped around his tailshaft – and not in that way which in other circumstances might have been pleasurable. "Shut up!" hissed the crane. He looked at the Constructicon leader. "I think we need to do what we talked about, Scrapper," he said. "It seems our concerns were not ill founded."

Scavenger had rarely see Scrapper look so furious. "I ought to have you melted down," he snarled. "Believe me it is only the detriment to the Constructicons that stops me. Now listen you fool.." Hook increased his grip, "this is not about us approving or not approving of you seeing your minibot. This is about either saving your life or not, at the least, having your spark put in a box for all eternity. _Darn it, Scavenger - do you understand?"_

Scrapper's gaze bore into him. Scavenger trembled. Hook relaxed his grip. "I think you got through," he said.

"Good," Scrapper said, regaining some of his usual composure. "Now pay attention, Scavenger. This hearing will be a chance for you to properly explain yourself - but _you_ won't be doing the talking. _Luckily,_ we have somebody among us who is good at getting people out of tricky situations."

"Yes," said Hook. "Much as it vexes me that we have to ask him for _anything,_ we need to make use of it, and be grateful. His boss is very angry about losing his base – hopefully what we pay for this will make amends."

"Hey - wait - who …. what amends…?" now Scavenger was just plain confused. But the door was hissing open. His jaw dropped as a familiar yellow form appeared. "Swindle?"

"Your friendly Combaticon attorney at your service," Scavenger's ex lover crowed. "Well, well - what _have_ you gotten yourself into this time, sweetspark?"

...........

In the end, Gears has stowed the box in his quarters. He'd deal with it later, he'd decided, and had successfully told himself NOT to size up a suitable spot on the wall to hang the picture. Nor, under any circumstances, was he going to worry any more about his idiot former captor.

Not that things had gotten any better. For now here he was seated in this armchair in the neat white room, the Protectobot poised professionally opposite. On First Aid's knee rested a clean datapad, a pen neatly attached to it.

All ready to take notes on ME, Gears thought angrily. The embarrassment of it! That he, Gears would need this. Not that he did, of course. Not that anyone did. _A load of claptrap_. Look at Cliffjumper, for instance. What good had that anger management therapy stuff done him?

And this wasn't even the real deal. No - it was just another one of Jazz's ploys to get information, to delay Gears' return to normal operations.

Well Jazz would be disappointed; for Gears wasn't telling anything about _that._ He'd use this chance to have a good say about what he _should_ be doing. By the time they'd finished, First Aid would be recommending his return to duty. In the strongest terms.

First Aid was looking at him sympathetically. "So – tell me - how have you been feeling?" he asked.

"I'm fine!" Gears snapped. "Next question?"

"After what you've been through, it would be all right not to be fine."

 _After I've been through?_ Nice try. Even Ratchet hadn't been able to retrieve the details of - well - the thing Gears never wanted to think about again; so well had Gears fortified his firewalls. "That's good," he growled. "But in my case – inapplicable."

"Do you know why you're here?" First Aid asked.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to set the record straight from the start. "Yeah - because you wanna get me to talk about – well, I think you know what you wanna get me to talk about. But …"

Leaning forward, Gears fixed the junior medic with what he knew to be his very best glower, "there's nothing to say. I told them what happened, and now its over. Done. Finito. Caput! The only thing bugging me is being hauled in here to have my head pulled apart."

"I see." First Aid made notes on the datapad. Gears rolled his optics. First Aid glanced up. His was face a picture of sparkfelt 'understanding, his blue optics soft and sympathetic. "You don't seem happy," he said.

Despite his irritation, Gears felt his defences weaken. He had heard from Cliffjumper that First Aid could have this effect, make you want to 'pour out your spark.' But Gears wasn't giving in. "Yeah well I'm not. But it ain't because of that."

"What is it because of, Gears?"

"Being cooped in here of course! Ain't that obvious?"

"You feel well and truly healed – enough to go into battle."

"Of course."

"So if you were out there and it looked as though you were about to be captured by the Decepticons, you'd be all right about that?"

"Absolutely!"

"If you were to encounter - say – a Constructicon. Maybe the one that kept you prisoner. Say you were on your own. You would handle the situation?"

"Yeah - I'd waste the slagger…" But in truth, a cloud of thoughts suddenly enveloped Gears like a dark nebula. Bleak despair came flooding in, the memory of being trapped, helpless, taken advantage of…perish the thought that it would _ever_ happen again.

Gears' chest felt tight, and everything went fuzzy. It was not just fear of recapture, but for what _else_ might indeed happen if he saw his captor face to face? Would he find misplaced sentiments? Warped nostalgia? Might he have _feelings_ , a ghastly need in his spark to….

 _I might not be in control._ The panic that brought was almost overwhelming; but there was worse to come. _What if they do get him, and I don't even GET the chance to see him again. It will be all my fault._ Gears clutched at the chair arms, lost in the tangled miasma of confusion.

"Gears?" A gentle white hand was on his arm.

"I'll be all right!" he insisted, but it was obvious how it sounded

"It's all right to be afraid," First Aid said gently.

"I ain't afraid!" Gears snatched his arm away. With an effort, he brought himself back to his senses. "I told you - I'm fine. At least, I was until you _started_ about this. Will you stop telling me how it is and isn't all right to be. You do that, you sound like …"

First Aid frowned. "Like who, Gears?"

"Never mind…" But Gears could not stop the tumult of thoughts from racing through his processor.

_…. he GAVE me the that datapad – and I told Jazz that. What if Prime tells Megatron? What if they kill him? What if he's already dead…?_

No – he wasn't dead, Gears would know that. Darn it, he would know it – even though it was the last thing he wanted to know, that the reason _why_ he might know disgusted him to his core.

"Do you mean Scavenger?" First Aid asked.

"I knew it! Gears cried. "Jazz should keep his flamin' mouth shut. I told you I didn't wanna talk about him. He has nothing to do with this!"

First Aid continued to watch him with that 'soft' look; yet it was oddly comforting. "I'm sure Scavenger will be all right," he said quietly. Their gestalt is actually the stronger of the Decepticon ones. His team mates will not let anything happen to him."

"How the heck did you…" but of course, First Aid would know, wouldn't he? He'd have to. It was all part of the set up.

First Aid was smiling gently, as though he understood. "In order to properly counsel you it was necessary that I be privy to certain intelligence, but rest assured I am bound by confidentiality - other than to the Prime should certain circumstances of emergency dictate."

Gears supposed that was so. It still irked him. And they could at least get their facts right. "Constructicons didn't seem overly concerned before!" he growled. "Quite the reverse. They're a bunch of bullies. Do you know that they beat him up?"

And then he clamped his mouth shut. What was he _saying?_

First Aid smiled empathetically. "Decepticon ways are different from ours. I believe Scrapper has procured Swindle to act as a legal representative," he said. "Believe it or not, he's very good. Some say it takes one to know one – but he saved many criminals from jail before the war."

Gears was incredulous. He recalled the slimy mech creeping around with Frenzy, hatching deigns on Scavenger's 'treasures' while he, Gears, lay concealed and helpless. "Well that's just great, ain't it?" he growled. " _That_ pitspawned piece of slag? I'd rather put an Insecticon in charge of a forest."

First Aid's optic ridges furrowed in concern. "I can understand those sentiments," he said. "And its perfectly all right to feel like this. I was just providing you with some information. You may wish to help Scavenger yourself. That would be perfectly natural."

Gears could hardly believe his audials. And then, he was furious.

"Well there ain't no chance of that whatsoever." He roared. "You think that after what that piece of pit did, I'd even consider it? Any trouble, he brought it right on himself. Too bad if its come back to bite him on the aft now."

"I see …" First Aid made notes. Gears peered over, trying to see what he was writing. By Primus, what had he said? Was this going to mean more questioning from Jazz? Or worse?

First Aid looked up. He frowned, reproachfully. "I remind you again of my professional obligations. My assignment is to assist you with regaining your health – these notes are for my benefit." He smiled. "Now – shall we move on with the therapy?"

Gears had never felt more relieved. "Yeah," he said. "Can we talk about something more - therapeutic?"

"Indeed," First Aid said. "How about your recharge patterns and bodily functions?"

"Fine!" Compared to Scavenger, the topic was a safe haven.

So why was it that for the rest of the session the Constructicon's predicament nagged in his processor? And why was he in his mind worrying desperately about what _exactly they did know,_ and frantically trying to think of what might exonerate the dumb-aft Constructicon?

...........

Scavenger still couldn't believe it. He stared at the yellow Combaticon. "You're like – a lawyer?"

"Wanna break laws, you gotta know them first," Swindle grinned. "And I'm kinda good at bailing out mechs that do that. Though hey …" he raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I don't do it much these days - I'm more on the business side. But its how I met Onslaught, y'know. And Vortex. Paid well. Just like now."

Now Scavenger remembered Swindle telling him something along these lines when he was drunk, once. He pouted. For a moment, he'd thought Swindle might have wanted to help him – to save him. But no – it was just another moneymaking opportunity.

And how could he trust Swindle, after all that had happened before?

"Relax – you just ain't never seen me in my 'professional capacity'…" Swindle oozed closer. "Of course, that ain't the only reason I'm doing it. I've been thinking…" a black finger traced a seam on Scavenger's arm, "You and I – we've been through a rough patch lately. I miss you. If I get you off this, could you give me another chance?"

Large purple optics gazed into Scavenger's. He hated the way his spark warmed to that smooth tone, the feeling he had at the notion that Swindle did want to 'save' him after all, that maybe he wasn't quite so bad.

It made Scavenger think how much he had missed being close to somebody since Gears went. But no – he must at least be faithful. There was not much else he could do in this 'situation,' but there was that. And maybe Swindle could help him see his treasure again – even if Scrapper and Hook didn't want that.

He could have a 'talk' with Swindle. Explain the situation.

"I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't care," Swindle was saying. 'D'you think I want your spark put in a box for the next few thousand years? Or your personality component? I couldn't see you go through that, hun. And I couldn't live without you."

Scavenger thought back to what Scrapper had said earlier, to the 'look' on the Constructicon leader's face. He shivered. No - it wasn't a happy prospect. But there was one thing Scavenger had to know. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Simple!" Swindle said. "You and me are gonna talk about how that pesky minibot ripped off your datapad. Then _I'm_ gonna do the talking."

...........

"So there you have it," Starscream was in full flight, clearly enraptured at this chance to show Megatron he had been right all along.

"There is not a grain of evidence to suggest that the Decepticon Scavenger did not carelessly lose his datapad. He should consider himself lucky that I have not pursued the possibility of treachery. The results, already serious, could have been catastrophic. I recommend his immediate incarceration."

The Seeker was, however, dismayed to see Onslaught not looking as enthusiastic as he might have. If only the Combaticon leader hadn't agreed to this stupid Swindle lawyer thing. That was the trouble with gestalts. You never could rely on backup when their own interests intervened. No doubt Swindle had charged Scrapper a fortune.

Megatron acknowledged Starscream with only a single steely glare. "Defence?" he snapped.

"I request that you reconsider my Lord." Polished to a high shine, Swindle dripped ingratiation. He'd even managed a more 'cultured' voice. Starscream felt like purging his tanks.

"Even if Scavenger did lose his pad, no link has been established between this and the base attack. And in any case, I will show irrevocably that Scavenger is not careless, that there is another explanation altogether, my Lord."

 _"What explanation?"_ Starscream could not stop himself. He was aware of Soundwave watching him closely from the other side of the hastily put together courtroom.

"You will kindly conduct yourself in a professional manner, Starscream!" Megatron roared.

It annoyed Megatron intensely that Starscream had assumed the role of prosecutor before anyone else could get a look in. He was sure the Seeker had leaped upon the chance to exonerate himself. For this reason alone, Megatron intended to find Scavenger innocent if he could.

Unfortunately though, the law was the law. Swindle hadn't come up with anything yet, and Starscream would exploit things unmercifully if he let Scavenger go and he was obviously guilty. But much as Swindle was a rogue, he had pulled off amazing courtroom stunts in the past – even gotten Megatron out of trouble once.

"Very well. You may have some time to get more evidence, Swindle," he said, ignoring Starscream's cry of protest. "You have half a cycle to come up with – whatever this is." He looked sternly at the Combaticon. "But be aware that you will not get another chance."

"No problem!" Swindle tried to sound confident. In fact, he didn't feel it. Not after the way Scavenger had carried on earlier, the stupid 'crush' that was now evident he had on the minibot. He wondered if Starscream was up for bribes. It would mean forgoing some of the takings form this exercise, but it might be worth it…

Megatron was getting to his feet. "Court dismissed!" he snapped.

Mirage, who behind the cloak of his invisibility had seen it all, was relieved Soundwave had been too preoccupied with Starscream to detect the existence of his own neural processes in the room.

Carefully, the spy stored the information. Nobody noticed the translucent shape that scintillated with shades of blue and white as it slunk away.

...........

Gears lay on his berth in the night-time silence of the Ark, Jazz's words still ringing in his audios.

"No, they don't know he gave it to you," Jazz had said. "We ain't in the business of having Decepticons turn on each other unless its to our advantage. And it ain't, in this instance. But you know what Cons are like. Starscream's still out for Scavenger's energon. And yeah – Swindle's got till tomorrow to come up with something."

Before that, having tossed and turned, Gears had onlined with sentimental thoughts about 'family,' about his own fellow minibots. He'd hardly seen them lately. Why was that? Were they afraid to talk to him un case he'd 'changed?' Did they think he'd 'gone soft?'

Gears had cringed at the possibility. It was probably the best reason yet to just _forget_ about the whole darned thing with the Constructicon, to put it behind him. But almost immediately, the same barrage of thoughts as earlier had assaulted him, and this time _he_ had ended up coming the Autobot third in command.

"I don't believe in mechs getting punished when they shouldn't," Gears had growled. "Its crazy - he's crazy - but he did give me that datapad because he thought it would make me feel better." Like any Autobot, a strong sense of justice flowed in the minibot's conduits, a need for the punishment to fit the crime.

"I agree, it's that kind o'thinking that makes us different from the Decepticons," Jazz agreed. The instinct was strong in Jazz too, though in truth for the third in command this was not quite such a priority. More it was the truce, the complications there might be with that if a gestalt member went down and the others blamed the Autobots and started tearing them apart.

"Any ideas what I can do?" Gears had growled at Jazz, nevertheless still furious that he was even asking this question.

"Well now …" Jazz had considered. "There wouldn't be no harm in anyone thinking you stole the pad now, or took it by force. Would there? That would give Swindle what he needs."

"Might be good here too if all this gets out," Jazz had said, getting up. "You know – _Gears the tough-aft. Whatever other hell he went through there, he kicked that Con's aft enough to get that datapad._ Not that I'm sayin' folks don't still think that but – well – won't do any harm. Will it?"

Now Gears' processor was filled again with thoughts of Scavenger; his stupid habits, his clumsiness, his totally warped misreading of everything. And yet, Gears realized what had been bugging about all of it – not just the datapad. It was the naivety, the innocence about everything the Constructicon did. Most amazing of all, Scavenger didn't believe he'd done anything wrong.

Did anyone honestly deserve to be punished - or to be hated - in those circumstances?

 _Darn it, he's still an aft though... What he did..._ Gears despaired as bitter indignation warred with moral conscience.

In the end though, he thought of the last thing Jazz has said. No it _wouldn't_ do any harm for them to think he was a tough-aft. In fact, maybe it was time for that – time folks showed a little respect. Not least Gears' fellow minibots.

Gears let out a long, hissing sigh. Heaving himself up and moving to the computer console, he began to type.

...........

At least Scrapper and Hook hadn't told Swindle about Scavenger _keeping_ his treasure. For one awful moment he'd thought they had – but they'd only said about the time he got taken away. All the same, what Swindle was suggesting was awful – given that Scavenger had 'come clean' and made his feelings about the minibot quite clear.

"Its not fair," Scavenger protested. "You get me to make up a story like that, he'll never speak to me again. He hates lies."

Swindle took a deep intake. "Look – all you have to say is that when the Minipunk ambushed you, he had weapons. Then other Autobots came. You were outnumbered and he stole the pad. There was nothing you could do."

"Don't call him that," Scavenger said crossly. "I understand you're jealous, but there's no need for name calling…."

"Yeah, yeah, all right, I'm sorry…" Swindle held up his hands. Right then, he had too much on his mind for jealousy. Far more important was that this case didn't get _complicated_. Starscream could win. Scavenger would go down, and Scrapper would want his money back. No way.

"Look - all I ask is this. I talk. You don't. When Megatron asks you if what I say its true, you nod. You keep your mouth shut. If you don't, then it's this …" Swindle drew a finger across his throat. "Got it?"

 _And it might be that anyway,_ Swindle was forced to concede. The jeep already had a contingency plan – a bag packed in his quarters. He had briefed Blast off to get him out of there before Scrapper came after him.

"I don't know why I can't just tell my story," Scavenger grumbled on. It was as though there were a sound barrier between him and Swindle. "Nobody cares what I want. Only he does. He loved me. I could see it in his optics when they took him away."

"Oh no – not this again," Swindle rolled his optics. Why did Scavenger have to be so _intense?_ He made a mental note that if they got through this then he would give the excavator a going over that would make him forget all about this minibot. Their own interfacing had always been all right, hadn't it?

But Scavenger's optics had that dreamy look again. "You know - if I have to go to prison, or even die for him, then it might not be so bad – at least I won't have betrayed him. He'll know that – and he'll know, at the end, that I did it for him. He might even want to die with me!" Had Scavenger not suggested that once, when they lived together? Gears had almost gone along with it.

"This is madness." Swindle threw up his hands. Scavenger was beyond assistance – and a total failure as an interface prospect. Swindle had misjudged this situation – he was doomed. But it was then that the door opened and Brawl appeared.

"Uh Swin… sorry to disturb you …" the tank looked awkward. "I know this is weird – but there's an Autobot on our general comm. He says its urgent…"

...........

The words on the screen were, as far as Megatron was concerned, thoroughly sufficient.

Whilst on patrol I had the misfortune to encounter Scavenger, who fought savagely as would any Decepticon, beating me to within an inch of my life and inspiring terror. My colleagues rescued me before he could kill me, but not before I had exacted revenge. For as I struggled in his iron grip, I managed to wrench open an arm compartment. There was the datapad – and I stole it …"

Swindle had not hesitated to suggest that there was now no case against his 'client' at all, and had called in the other Constructicons. All had given evidence that Scavenger had been alone and outnumbered. He had been captured, and had performed admirably to escape at all. He could forgiven for the whereabouts if his datapad being the last thing on his mind.

Starscream, of course, had protested loudly. _Why,_ he had wailed, _would an Autobot provide such evidence?_ Megatron had quickly silenced him, threatening him with spark extraction for contempt of court of he uttered another word. He had retreated, looking furious. He would get over it. He always did.

There had been applause in the Decepticon ranks, remarks of "I didn't know the idiot had it in him …" Onslaught had beamed, evidently delighted with Swindle. He and Scrapper had even shaken hands.

Only Scavenger himself had looked upset, and had seemed curiously unhappy with the decision - but the other Constructicons had bundled him away.

That, however, was not of concern to Megatron, he had far more important things to do now. Obviously the reason for the Autobot's testimony was that Prime really wanted this truce, and the Decepticon leader was simply delighted at the lengths to which the Autobots would apparently go.

Megatron intended getting maximum mileage from it – and making sure Starscream did not think for one moment that he was out of the frame of previous suspicion.

...........

"So Megatron's agreed to the truce," Prime said. "On condition we don't use any more of the information from that datapad. He seemed in a most odd mood. He kept saying 'thank you for your _assistance_ " in a very sarcastic tone – though I have no idea what he meant." He frowned at Jazz and Mirage. "Any ideas?"

Mirage and Jazz looked at each other. "Sir …" It was Mirage who explained what had happened at the trial.

"I see," Optimus Prime looked surprised, though he was not displeased. But then, he frowned, thinking of _that other aspect_ present in the equation. "It perturbs me that Gears' statement does rather go against what he said before," he said. "It is somewhat out of character, for him to lie."

"I believe he acted upon the Autobot duty to preserve life unless the same represents an unacceptable threat, and to protect th'innocent," Jazz said. "If y'ask me, that's just a normal Autobot reaction. Besides, it does seem to have helped get the truce, does it not?"

"Indeed, but …" the Prime frowned. He decided to say no more about it, however, but to have a word with First Aid later. "Mirage, do you have anything to add?"

"Order has returned to the Decepticons," the spy spoke smoothly. "Or such as may be considered order for them. I am unconvinced about the genuine-ness of their making of the truce. But so long as we are ahead of their thinking, I suggest we can benefit. They are building a new Combaticon base. Its supposed to be secret, but I happen to know its whereabouts."

"Good Work Mirage," the leader said. "Now – despite the fragility of the truce, I would like to construct some edifice on neutral territory where it can be signed by both Megatron and I – so the humans can see plainly that we have considered their needs first. Any ideas?"

"I will ascertain a suitable location," the spy nodded graciously.

...........

"Do you think there is any further cause for concern about the Autobot Gears - in relation to the aspect we spoke of before?" Prime asked First Aid later.

First Aid stretched his fingers in his lap, considering the question. "From a security point of view no – although I would not be so confident about Scavenger if I were Megatron, not because he is deliberately treacherous, but just because if – well – how he is…" First Aid paused, as though considering that question himself.

"As for the spark involvement?" First Aid shrugged. "Gears seems to think that this episode has given him some closure; that having helped the Decepticon he can now justifiably tell him to leave him alone. But I don't know…" he was pensive again. "He did not dispose of the presents, and has in fact hung the picture on his wall."

The medic brightened. "It is in fact a rather nice piece," he said. "Have you seen it? The Constructicons are a talented bunch. I was thinking of asking for one myself …" he smiled shyly, "or maybe we could get one to symbolize the truce?"

"Maybe …" Optimus Prime didn't know about that. Events in this war never failed to amaze him. But he was satisfied concerning Gears. Provided Ratchet's report was favorable, the 'bot could go back to active duty.

...........

"I still don't know why Gears said that!" Three days later, Scavenger was still moping. "I never would have beaten him up. I loved him. That's what Swindle wanted me to say. He was SO jealous. He _conned_ Gears. I'll never forgive him for that!"

But Scrapper, who could see only too well that this would be an ongoing epiphany unless he changed things once and for all, had now worked out what to say. He was glad to have been joined by Hook, who agreed entirely – much as it pained them both to do this.

Scrapper sat down on the berth beside Scavenger in the small, dingy room. "He lied to save your spark, Scavenger," he said. "Just as we all would have done because we would have missed you so much. You are – valuable – to us." Above him, Hook nodded solemnly.

It was, as Scrapper had suggested, exactly the right thing to say. Scavenger only deliberated for a moment before his face lit up. "You would? I am?"

"Of course," Hook said. "And as for Gears, he said what he said because I think he wanted to show that – he cares for you. Even though he's an Autobot, and lying is not easy, he was prepared to make – a _sacrifice._ Isn't that right, Scrapper?"

"Indeed." There was nothing in the leader's face to suggest that he didn't agree entirely.

Suddenly to Scavenger it was all so clear. And he probably should have gone along with what Swindle had said. But no, something had stopped him; and now that was all so obvious too; Gears had _needed_ this opportunity to make his feelings known, to prove absolutely his devotion.

"I've got another surprise," Scrapper was saying; and he didn't sound unhappy, even though he rolled his optics a bit. "We start this afternoon on the Truce Tower, as they are calling it. I have it on good authority that your – minibot – will be there."

Scrapper and Hook were almost bowled over by the force of the hug that was suddenly thrust upon him.

They hadn't broken their promises after all.

...........

_And finally..._

Windcharger looked up, squinting into Earth sun as it set behind the half built Truce Tower. "Say - isn't that a Constructicon headed our way? They've been very friendly today. I wonder what he wants."

"Slaggin' truce!" Cliffjumper was already flexing his servos. "I reckon what I should do is let him know this is a very _temporary_ state of affairs."

"Don't be silly!" said Huffer. "Look – its Scavenger. I'm surprised he's game to come near Gears, after the hiding he got. But hey – I think we should be all right to him. He's been very helpful. And we Autobots should show we're not always tough guys and tyrants. Shouldn't we?"

"Helloo!" The Constructicon was smiling.

"Well I'll be darned." Brawn looked similarly amazed. "Gears …" he shouted over to where the minibot tinkering with electrical components for the Tower. "You wanna do anything about this?"

Gears had avoided looking – just had he'd avoided _all_ of the Constructicons for two whole days now. He had hoped beyond hope that what he was hearing wasn't real – but one look at the gangly smiley figure headed in that direction brought his worst fears to the fore.

"I'll deal with it," the red minibot growled. "Well don't just stand there! Plenty of work to do round the other side."

The others looked at each other, not without concern. "C'mon, we'll stay within range. I'm sure it'll be fine …" Brawn was ushering them away.

And now here Scavenger was, all lanky green and purple with that inane grin on his face. "I just wanted to say that I know why you did it, and I feel the same way!" he was saying. "And I hope you liked the presents. I just wondered …" he looked shyly at the ground. "If I could take you out sometime?"

 _Where,_ for frags sake. Could not Scavenger say one sentence without suggesting the utterly ridiculous? Yet despite his annoyance, Gears spark warmed. He felt again as though something had shifted in relation to the Constructicon – made him feel not _quite_ as pissed with him as he had before.

Only _slightly_ less pissed, mind. Gears frowned. Whatever these feelings were, they wouldn't last long. He wouldn't _allow_ them to last long. "Well what did you have in mind?" he said. "A trek across the desert? An outing to the beach and shell painting session?"

Scavenger giggled. "You're so funny," he said. "Well - maybe there aren't that many places here. But perhaps instead …" he looked around, "we could just sit down here somewhere and talk things over. We could just – kiss – if you didn't want to do anything more."

He smiled goofily. "I thought you might want to – you know – with the way you feel and all."

Why did Gears get the feeling this was just the start of a long hard road? But he didn't have the energy to argue with the Constructicon. "Not here," he growled. And he started to stump away, back towards the electrical components, under the rock overhang that concealed the nearby scene.

Scavenger hesitated for a moment, before following delightedly. This was easily the best day of his life.


End file.
